


on the soft satin

by yvie



Series: Takarazuka Guess The Author Fills [6]
Category: Anna Karenina - Takarazuka Revue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvie/pseuds/yvie
Summary: Vronsky ponders to himself after a night with Anna.
Relationships: Alexei Vronsky/Anna Karenina
Series: Takarazuka Guess The Author Fills [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759144
Kudos: 2
Collections: Guess the author Round three





	on the soft satin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Takarazuka Guess the Author game with the prompt, "It had to be you."
> 
> Based solely on the 2019 Takarazuka adaptation of the novel. I have not read the book, so I apologize for any inaccuracies.

Vronsky cards her hair with his fingers. He then steps back, to witness her like a painting. Anna is sleeping on his bed, cheek to the pillow, the translucent drapes of the canopy framing her as if she were Titania herself. He was no Oberon, however. That title belongs to the man who shared her ring and with whom she shares a name… 

Her chest rises and falls with the sound of the wind around them. Her shoulders are pearls, delicate and pure. He joins her again in bed, murmuring her name like the litanies he would dedicate to the higher power. When his eyes fall, Anna’s flutter open.

“Alexei?” She murmurs, half-asleep.

Her slenger, lithe fingers reach out to touch his cheeks, his lips then they trickle down to his bare chest. Vronsky, not quite able to fall asleep yet, catches Anna’s fingers in his. His eyes softly ease open —he thanks the Lord in heaven that the first thing he sees is Anna’s face. There is nothing else in the world he wants.

“Anna…” 

He shifts closer to her as he slithers an arm around her waist. Their foreheads touch, along with their noses. Anna smiles, and Vronsky notices immediately how deep the crevices on her cheeks are, how her eyes turn into luminous crescents. He wants to kiss her but he holds himself back, for some reason.

“Of all people in this world,” Anna speaks, averting her gaze to the ruffles on his shirt, “it had to be you.”

Vronsky refuses to hear any more of this and pulls her into a tight embrace. She protests, attempting to push herself away from him but Vronsky relents. He does not want Anna to have any regrets—after all, she chose to be here with him, instead of sharing the bed with her husband. Anna mellows, and melts into his embrace. 

She weeps against his chest. From the guilt, perhaps. From loneliness, perhaps. From the lack of her son, perhaps. Vronsky silently admits defeat as he strokes her hair, for Anna shall never be entirely his, no matter how much the world at the moment makes it seem to be. 

Anna sneaks an arm onto her belly, their yet unborn child rests there — the proof of their love. Vronsky wonders, wistfully, whether the child would have brown hair like its mother, or blonde hair like him. Will it have the same smile as its mother? He joins her hand with his on her belly. Vronsky makes a silent oath to himself to love the child, and its mother, even if the tides turn and she leaves him again. 

Suddenly, Anna makes a surprised gasp, then notes a soft kick in her stomach. Without meaning to, Vronsky starts to weep as well, hiding his face in his hands. 


End file.
